


Pollination

by merryfortune



Series: Dungeons & Dryads [1]
Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! VRAINS
Genre: Alternate Universe - High Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Arranged Marriage, Blow Jobs, Dendrophilia, Discussion of Pregnancy, Interspecies Relationship(s), Interspecies Romance, Interspecies Sex, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Non-Human Genitalia, Oral Sex, Oviposition, Penetrative Sex, Porn With Plot, if you know stuff about how plants reproduce you will probably be offended by this fic, the author never did senior level biology in high school and it does show
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-05
Updated: 2018-11-05
Packaged: 2019-08-18 21:19:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16524860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merryfortune/pseuds/merryfortune
Summary: Deep within the Sunavalon Forest, Lord Revolver seeks to an audience with the Queen. An audience interrupted by the awfully precocious prince who soon negotiates something more than border protection and warfare tactics.





	Pollination

**Author's Note:**

> In case you guys were wondering where my mental state is at currently, this fic was initially conceived as tentacle sex but instead, became an oviposition fic.

   Lord Revolver parted the hanging tendrils and came through the leafy glade bedecked with hanging vines. The air was cleaner and purer here. It was rejuvenating and just stepping foot upon this ancient and Arcadian place, as a human and a fiendish one at that, he defiled it.

   Immediately, Lord Revolver was apprehended by wooden sentinels. Gardnas, they identified themselves as and without resistance, Lord Revolver is taken. He did not necessarily surrender himself, but he was a willing victim. Even as he was taken in restraints: vines knotted tightly around his wrists but such easy to escape from materials. They were taking him seriously but only as seriously as hunks of wood could.

   He was taken to the middle of this complex and virginal, green valley.  It had been a long and beautiful walk, but not one which made Lord Revolver’s feet ache. He was taken to the Queen of such a place. After all, she was one of the few inhabiting this place with sentience. She had a fearful curiosity, but Lord Revolver was careful not to make himself an enemy of this place.

   With his hands bound, he looks up at this Queen he had been taken to with a malevolent beam. And she looked down on him with suspicion. She had a beautiful face neither aged or youthful; almost embodying of the three, mythological women: maiden, mother, and crone, all at once and shifting. She’s tall and vibrant; a tree, the centrepiece of this place.

   “Tell me,” she spoke, her serene voice wavered, “how does the son of man find us?”

   “Not easily,” Lord Revolver replied.

   “So, what is worth such effort?” the Queen asked.

   “I come in search of a treaty. I want your magic for myself. I will not leave without it, and should I leave without it, there will be ash on my brow.” Lord Revolver replied.

   The Queen was aghast. All through her scenic and quiet court, gasps could be heard. So, could birds and the rustle of grass and leaves.

   “I do hope I have not ended negotiations before they could begin.” Lord Revolver said.

   “We will have you banished if you continue such threats.” the Queen replied.

   “You stole the breath from my mouth, Mother.” a voice said.

   It sent a shiver down Lord Revolver’s spine. It pricked on his lips and intrigued him. Especially because he did not know who had spoken or where they had spoken from.

   And, then something caught his eye. The creak of the Queen’s branches and he saw a figure dressed in white and then. They were gone. It unsettled Lord Revolver as he strained his ears. Nothing. Until, a drawn breath and exhale from behind him. He tried to take a step back but immediately, the security detail grabbed him. He only caught a glimpse of the person who had snuck up behind them all: again, a figure dressed all in white.

   As Lord Revolver turned his head back unto the Queen, he saw the person once more… fully revealed: an androgynous and human-looking man, tall and lithe, but given his green complexion and pointed ears, Lord Revolver suspected that he was just that. Human-looking. He wore wondrously fine garb: white furs and jewels and flowers. It was strangely decadent. He was relaxed in the presence of them all and bore a crown of thorns.

   _Mother_ … Lord Revolver thought to himself.

   But there was something off about the youth. His breathing was haggard and his skin, shiny and slick with sweat.

   “My son, you are in no condition to make contact with our stranger,” the Queen rather urgently reprimanded him.

   He sighed, shrugged it off even, and wandered forward. He soon came into Lord Revolver’s close quarters and caressed his face; squeezing his cheeks and examining his eyes. There was something feral and wrong about the youth – the Prince of this forest – but Lord Revolver was uncertain what sort of ailment it was. Was he unsettled by encountering something only human-looking or was it something else?

   The Prince’s fingertips upon Lord Revolver’s face were like sticks. They were hard and pressured. And yet, they were so undeniably soft and silky despite their boniness.

   “What demands do you want to make of us since you threaten us with arson?” the Prince asks.

   “I require your magics.” Lord Revolver stated again. “There shall soon be a war against a new breed of homunculi known as the Ignis. It will be a great and bloody war. Humans have trod upon the domain of gods and now, if we do not amend ourselves, we will perish.”

   “Fascinating. But what makes you think we of the Forest care? We have no sympathy for the trite and trivialities of humans.” the Prince said with thick loathing in his voice.

   Lord Revolver licked his lips and he made eye contact with the Prince. His eyes were blue, a blue that neither evoked the sky or sea, and were framed by these darling eyelashes; so long and fluttering. The way the Prince spoke aroused Lord Revolver. It was so cold. He wanted to know more.

   “If you value your land, you will submit to me. Simple as that.” Lord Revolver replied.

   The Prince’s breathing grew heavier.

   “My son, until your condition is eased, it is unwise of you to make contact with this son of man.” the Queen urged.

   “And how will you use our magics in this war of yours?” the Prince asked.

   He let go of Revolver’s face and snapped his fingers. Instantly, his bonds disintegrated and turned to nothing. The Queen made a face of displeasure and of disagreement, but it seemed that she was unable to go against the rebellious whims of her son. However, the Gardnas did not let up and they remained, stoic, either side of Lord Revolver.

   “Ambush, torture, escape, so on and so forth.” Lord Revolver replied. “I do not want a drop of human blood to be spilt in the name of this war. I want to end it before it reaches such a critical point.”

   “Interesting… And just who are you, son of man?” the Prince asked.

   “I call myself Lord Revolver, my true name is Ryoken, son of Kiyoshi Kogami. I was once a Prince, but I am now in exile with my father and our knights. We had been assailed by the clan of Sol Vrains because my father’s experiments in the name of human furtherment were not met well.” Lord Revolver explained.

   The Prince quirked his eyebrows at that, he was listening, but he didn’t seem to care for the finer details. Yet, he seemed to give the appearance that he would remember that later as it was beneficial information regardless.

   “I think we can strike a deal.” the Prince said.

   “Aye, if the humans have a revolution so great and bloody as this princeling fears, it may involve our forest and I forbid humans to die on our territory for it would defile our haven.” the Queen agreed. “Please, what are your conditions? In exchange for our magic, we want confirmation that you never bring this war to us.”

   Lord Revolver continued to examine the Prince’s face. He was growing wetter by the second, his breathing harsh and grating.

   “I could find a cure to what ails your prince.” Lord Revolver suggested. “He is clearly suffering a torturous sickness.”

   “Ah, his illness shall pass. It is common.” the Queen said.

   “No, no, let the man try. I’m intrigued.” the Prince said, and he threw his head over his shoulder. “We shall retreat to private quarters to negotiate. If things turn for the militaristic, we shall return to involve you but for now, Mother, I am confident in my abilities to negotiate.”

   Lord Revolver was suspicious of such a turn of events but before he could protest, the Prince placed his hand on Lord Revolver’s shoulder and they were gone. The magic of the plant people was nothing like that of human magic and even science. They were capable of feats which defied logic; such as the ability to transport each other instantaneously and to beguile the mind. Something Lord Revolver was on his hackles about, especially since he was no longer in the open.

   He wasn’t too certain about these new surroundings. They were likely the Prince’s private quarters. It felt as though he had been taken to some private cottage, but the walls were barely sturdy. They were simply canvas sheets put up for the sake of privacy. There was a gorgeously built up bed of leaves and furs in the corner. The Prince had also seated himself at a table and chair, rich in colour and texture.

   “Please, sit.” the Prince said and indicated the other chair. “I don’t get company quite like you all that often. As you have probably recognised, most the denizens of this place aren’t… sentient. My mother and I, a handful of others. That’s about it.”

   Lord Revolver sat down. He was stiff, but the Prince was soft, relaxed. He snapped his fingers and he summoned a tea pot and a set of saucers. They were all very cute and even human-like in design. Lord Revolver wondered if it was coincidence or if these possessions were born of something pilfered.

   “Relax, I have no ill intentions even though you have, miraculously trespassed upon land which has not seen human ascension in millennia.” The Prince said; his voice continued to drip with loath and contempt for the mere mention of humanity.

   He pushed a tea cup and saucer towards Lord Revolver. “I make the best tea in all the realms, I believe you will find.”

   Not wanting to be rude, Lord Revolver decided to take the gamble upon such a boast. He poured out some tea for himself. It smelt noxious when he put it to his face. He did not sip. The Prince poured his own drink and then drank elegantly despite some sort of fervour. He glanced at Lord Revolver.

   “Afraid of poison, are you?” he asked.

   “Perhaps.” Lord Revolver replied.

   “A reasonable fear.” the Prince relented. “But I assure you, I have no aspirations of killing you. Well, at least not until you present an offence worth of such punishment.”

   “I see.” Lord Revolver said.

   He decided to swallow a small mouthful of the fruity and flowery concoction. The flavour exploded on his tongue. His eyes widened.

   “You like it?” the Prince asked.

   “Yes. It’s very good. Your claim has weight, my liege.”

   “Spectre.”

   “Excuse me?”

   The Prince looked up from his tea cup, a daring yet innocent look in his eyes. “You may call me Spectre. That is the name I have been given.”

   “Well, I appreciate your gesture of good will towards me, Prince Spectre.” Lord Revolver replied. “Now, what is it that ails you? I will have my doctors scour all the land to cure it.”

   Prince Spectre’s lips twitched. “My malady is common in the springtime.”

   Lord Revolver kept silent. He didn’t want to dare ask if it were possible for plant people to become allergic to themselves.

   “Oestrus.” Prince Spectre said when he realised that Lord Revolver’s lips were sealed tight without any questions trying to wriggle through.

   “Oestrus?” Lord Revolver echoed.

   “I believe that is the word most close to the mammalian understanding of mating.” Prince Spectre replied.

   “If there is a better word, or hell: better explanation, then I suggest you rectify yourself immediately lest I come to misunderstand your… ailment.” Lord Revolver said.

   “Very well then.” Prince Spectre hummed. “I am currently in the state of needing pollination; either doing it onto someone else or having it done unto me. But, alas, with my royal blood and with few suitors worthy of me, it is difficult for me to find the right mate to take.”

   “I see. Well, I suppose I could find you a suitable companion.” Lord Revolver said.

   “I don’t want you to find me a suitable companion. I want you to be my suitable companion.” Prince Spectre reiterated himself.

   “Excuse me?” Lord Revolver said with a tiny gasp because he was shocked by the revelation.

   “You don’t believe a sexual alliance could benefit us?” Prince Spectre asked.

   “Well, I just hardly think its appropriate. One ought not to mix business and pleasure.” Lord Revolver replied.

   “Then I suppose you don’t have a deal. After all, I sense that you would have a great capacity for dryadic magic within you but, since you’ve refused this exchange, such potential is now wasted.” Prince Spectre sighed. “But, if you like, I can return you to my Mother’s court and you can discuss military tactics in finer details.”

   “You think I have potential for your kind’s magic?” Lord Revolver asked.

   “Oh, most definitely. You are unyielding, I sense. Like oak and yet, so pretty. Like a lily. These are very good traits in someone who wants to take upon the seed of magic.” Prince Spectre said.

   Lord Revolver’s brow creased. With just that, Prince Spectre had his interest piqued. And Prince Spectre knew it. The Prince bore a devious look upon his face.

   “There are only two ways in which such potential can be tapped into. Two very different oaths of the strongest vow. I took upon the latter so I’m going to be merciful and offer you the former.” Prince Spectre continued, and he toyed with tea saucer.

   “Former and latter? Just what are these options?” Lord Revolver asked.

   “The oaths of love and hate, of course. The strongest emotions in the world, felt by all: man, beast, and even plant.” Prince Spectre replied. Then, casually, he added: “I was a son of man, once.”

   That struck a chord in Lord Revolver and his back straightened. His attention was utterly captured by the dryad prince.

   “I was abandoned as a human baby within hours of taking my first breath upon this mortal coil. I was left in the forest and the forest claimed me… once I died, of course.” Prince Spectre said. “And now, I am all powerful within this domain. But, of course, there are less macabre ways in which power can be bestowed.”

   “So, the ultimatum for the power I desire is either let you kill me or let you fuck me?” Lord Revolver asked.

   With a wavering breath, his chest rapidly rising and falling, Prince Spectre turned his face upon Lord Revolver and empathetically replied: “Yes.”

   “Fabulous…” Lord Revolver stewed.

   “I mean, that’s only, of course, if you want to unlock this potential I sense in you. There are other ways. We could aid you and your cause tools but isn’t that boring? Surely a mortal such as yourself seeks something greater from this alliance.” Prince Spectre said.

   Lord Revolver’s brow furrowed as he pondered his options. It seemed like there was a clear choice between them. And yet… It was a strange one which spurred hesitation.

   “So, casual sex and that’s it? No further obstacles to the attaining of this power?” Lord Revolver asked.

   “I mean, a continuing alliance could be useful.” Prince Spectre said.

   “In what way?” Lord Revolver asked.

   “Well, I will require pollination in the future and you could further educate yourself on the power of the forest in the downtime between our trysts.” Prince Spectre said.

   Lord Revolver disliked how placidly Prince Spectre spoke of this arrangement but, if the alternative – if the Prince is believed – is death and reincarnation or, more believably, simply using weapons imbued with these powers, the temptation began to give in.

   “Are you the jealous type, Prince Spectre?” Lord Revolver inquired. “I mean, I could form all sorts of contracts like these with people and you, safe in this wondrous haven, would never know. I just want to ensure you are emotionally ready for this glorified role of fuck buddy.”

   That seemed to have resounded deep within Prince Spectre.

   “And what of ailments? Are you aware of human, sexual cleanliness? And what about how your bodily chemistry affects mine? It would not bode well with my father, an ex-King, if his only son becomes stricken with an unknown illness from these trysts. Not to mention, the scandal of sex out of wedlock.”

   Again, and again, it all seemed to hit deep within Prince Spectre. He turned irate. “Are you suggesting an alternate arrangement?”

   “A political marriage.” Lord Revolver said.

   “And what benefits would that bring us?” Prince Spectre asked.

   “Well, aside from dignity and the reason you put forth, it could give us both access to new resources. I could provide you with more human possessions than you know what to do with. And should I earn the ire of the outside world in my efforts to end a war with the Ignis before it begins, my knights and I could benefit from having a haven such as this to retire to. Something I may not have the right to unless we were so closely intertwined. In exchange, I could help protect your borders. Not to mention the more personal benefits such as emotional security. Why, I think there are dozens of possible benefits to a political marriage? So, why not?” Lord Revolver said.

   “Hm, I see. But what of an heir? Are you looking to produce one since you seem so intent on residing at my side?” Prince Spectre inquired.

   “Procreation is not a priority of mine. I do not intend to return to any throne worth inheriting. I only care that these homunculi are destroyed, and, in all likelihood, I may not have to use your land as personal refuge. We could be lovers in all but name, if you so wish.” Lord Revolver said.

   “Very well then, but I must admit. I am becoming increasingly interested in being very personally involved with you. And not just sexually.” Prince Spectre replied.

   “Very well then. That sounds amicable, I suppose.” Lord Revolver said.

   “Also, never implied it was impossible for us to bring forth new life.” Prince Spectre added as something of a sassy afterthought.

   Lord Revolver chose not to inquire further on that notion. He wasn’t certain of whether or not he could sit through the information it would garner but he did dwell on it. He was more of a hands-on learner, too, so he would prefer a more organic form of learning would aide him in understanding such an unusual thing.

   Prince Spectre sighed. “I suppose, we have an agreement. A political marriage it is then.”

   “Yes. A political marriage.” Lord Revolver said.

   Then, Prince Spectre was very to the point now that they had those details settled: “Now, are there any rituals or similar that you need to go through? Otherwise, I see no issue as to why we can’t just relieve me right now.” he said.

   “I can think of some, but they wouldn’t take long. I just better clean up, you know. Is there a place I can bathe and relieve myself?” Lord Revolver replied.

   “Yes.” Prince Spectre said. He then pointed towards the canvas. “My personal spring, I use to bathe is a short walk from here. I trust you won’t need my guidance as it is a fairly straightforward path, but I would be thrilled to assist you, but I might not hold back should you allow me to help. I’m getting very desperate, I won’t lie.”

   Lord Revolver got up awkwardly and a touch abruptly. “I understand, thank you for your hospitality. I hope I won’t leave you too long.”

   “I anticipate your brevity.” Prince Spectre replied, and he licked his lips.

   Lord Revolver felt as though a rock had just plummeted through his stomach. He felt very heavy suddenly. He excused himself perhaps more awkwardly than he intended. Meanwhile, Prince Spectre continued to sip from his tea cup.

   Lord Revolver parted the sheet that Prince Spectre had for privacy and was released unto the rather tame wilds of the forest. He ventured along a well-worn path and soon found the spring that Prince Spectre had spoken of. It was bedecked with polished stones as well as various lotions all stored in hollowed rocks and inside wooden bowls.

   The steam wafted up and Lord Revolver dropped his clothes. He had his back to the path and he hadn’t heard the crinkle of grass except when he had walked. And yet, he distinctly felt eyes on him. He wondered if Prince Spectre was using the well famed power of the plant people for such perverse uses. Nonetheless, Lord Revolver plunged into the spring and the smell of minerals was immediate once he had entered the water.

   He was careful to not to get his head wet. He didn’t need to wash his hair, after all. He just needed to wash his privates and become cleanly for Prince Spectre’s use. Lord Revolver also indulged in Prince Spectre’s soaps and lotions and balms. He certainly had many and they all smelt rather delectable, even edible. He felt no guilt in using them. After all, they were engaged. Surely what was Prince Spectre’s, was now his too…

   Lord Revolver finished making himself presentable for his fiancé. He stood up in the spring and let himself drip dry for a moment; he glanced around and saw cloths that he could use. He dragged himself out and grabbed them. They smelt of Prince Spectre and a swirl of warmth went through him as he pushed the cloth along his dewy skin.

   He then turned and went to grab his clothes. He paused though. He mused if he ought to return as is; au naturelle, he joked with himself. But Lord Revolver soon reasoned that if he was going to have sex right then he would have to be disrobed by his new lover himself. After all, if he was to be deflowered by the dryad prince, then he may as well have each petal – that is, garb he wore – plucked from him proper.

   So, Lord Revolver buttoned himself into his blouse and trousers; donned his jacket and cloak once more. He felt more conscious of the fabric fit him now. Was he sexually attractive to Prince Spectre or was his standards just that low from his dire need of being pollinated?

   Lord Revolver supposed, he was about to find out.

   Though, it did sate his concerns that he found Prince Spectre sexually attractive so there was the possibility that such a thing could be requited. Though, admittedly, Lord Revolver was concerned by the fact that he was arousing himself with the image of Prince Spectre. Surely it was improper for such inter-species relations; even if they were steadily going ahead.

   Lord Revolver returned. He pushed aside the sheet and entered Prince Spectre’s private quarters once more. He swallowed as his eyes quickly fell upon the empty table but the filled bed, further along into his chambers; if they could be so generously called that.

   Prince Spectre languidly laid on his mattress; a firm piling of leaves and feathers and cloth and goodness knows what else. There, he was spread out and his shoulders bare. Though he was draped with his fur cloak; it wound around his body rather suggestively. The only thing missing was a rose beneath his teeth.

   And, he seemed to have realised that as he mumbled to himself then such a flower blossomed from thin air in his hands. He beckoned Lord Revolver closer with lustful eyes and a smirk. Lord Revolver’s heart pounded as he stepped forward.

   He knelt at Prince Spectre’s bedside. “Is this where you normally sleep?”

   “Yes.” Prince Spectre replied. He then scrutinised the question. “Why, are they unsatisfactory to you?”

   “More a difficulty of cultural differences.” Lord Revolver replied.

   “Duly noted but, for now, I hope this shall suffice.” Prince Spectre replied.

   Lord Revolver slowly moved closer. He made striking eye contact with the dryad prince, asking silently for permission, and he got it. Soon, he straddled Prince Spectre. Their foreheads bumped together.

   Lord Revolver took a breath. “It shall.”

   “I’m glad.” Prince Spectre replied, and he was the one to initiate their first kiss as husbands-to-be.

   The ensuing kiss was sweet. It tasted of nectar and tea. Not to mention, the technique itself. Not only was the taste of it a treat, but the way in which Prince Spectre kissed Lord Revolver was too. He was chaste and thorough with a touch of virginal innocence begging to be transformed into something else; something more experienced and lurid. Still, it caused Lord Revolver’s heart to flutter as he kissed back as elegantly as he could. Between the two of them, there was an addictive synergy slowly building.

   Prince Spectre placed his hand on Lord Revolver’s breast. He could feel the faint thump of his heart; beating hard beneath his layers. Slowly, Prince Spectre toyed at a button, asking without words.

   “Do it.” Lord Revolver said; his voice all but breath.

   Prince Spectre began to pry off Lord Revolver’s outer clothing. His jacket and cloak. Both unbutton and fell around him, softening the strange mattress-like dwelling beneath them which was in some places lumpy and other places comfortable.

   Soon, Lord Revolver’s chest was free of cloth. Prince Spectre mused, to himself, as he edged along Lord Revolver’s ribcage and other bones which stuck out to him, jutting out beneath his skin as he propped himself up. It was as though he were familiarising himself with the anatomy presented.

   Lord Revolver leaned in and pecked Prince Spectre’s cheek. “Surely my mouth,” he whispered, “is far more interesting.”

   “Perhaps…” Prince Spectre mumbled, and he let his hand drop to Lord Revolver’s thigh; his fingers inched over it to bring attention to Lord Revolver’s stiffening manhood.

   “Seduce me properly; I am not one to rush these sorts of things.” Lord Revolver said, half a snicker in his voice.

   “A human after my own heart. How lovely.” Prince Spectre replied, and he initiated another kiss.

   This kiss was again slow and gradual but there was a building fervour as they got to know each other carnally like this. As they kissed, the cape that Prince Spectre had been wearing, in the loosest sense of the word, began to slip and fall between them both. Lord Revolver brought them closer and he straddled Prince Spectre; not so discretely looking for some sort of hint as to what might be beneath the fabric which separated them rather thinly.

   Lord Revolver broke off the kiss. He did not pant. He wondered, if just like a plant, Prince Spectre breathed carbon dioxide?

   Lord Revolver kissed Prince Spectre’s bare shoulder. Prince Spectre lifted his chin slightly and hummed, contended. He felt Lord Revolver tongue over veins. They were thin and tightly coiled, raised off his skin ever so slightly. He tasted like the stalk of a vegetable, truth be told. His lips were sweeter; his body earthy.

   With each rolling of his tongue over the dip of Prince Spectre’s clavicle, Lord Revolver came to the conclusion that Prince Spectre’s body likely did not bruise like his would. So, his kissing explored other reaches of Prince Spectre’s upper chest. And, somewhere beneath the haze of sexual intimacy, Lord Revolver was interested in learning more about dryad systems because it seemed so complex and strangely; alien, or inhuman too.

   After all, Prince Spectre had this peculiar body which was human-like and of a green complexion. His skin was, for the most part, smooth but like a leaf, he was covered in these thin, slightly risen veins and he was naturally perfumed with all the voluptuous scents of a welcoming garden. It was incredible. But Lord Revolver was curious. If Prince Spectre was cut, if he were bitten too hard, what would he bleed? Juice, chlorophyll, blood or something else?

   Lord Revolver lifted his mouth from Prince spectre’s shoulder. Prince Spectre battered his eyes at him; his long eyelashes fluttered and a smirk on his lips. Lord Revolver swallowed. It was really a perfect sight as, for all its strangeness, Prince Spectre was rather beautiful.

   “Very well then,” Lord Revolver said, “I’m ready to make love to you.”

   “Splendid.” Prince spectre said, and he kissed Lord Revolver again.

   He was curt. Teasing. Then he removed the long tumble of fabric from around him. Lord Revolver, as politely as he could, glanced downwards and he was not overly certain of what he had seen. He had expected conventional genitalia: a penis or a vagina, or something similar. Instead, he copped an eyeful of a blooming flower.

   There was no other way to put it.

   Prince Spectre’s genitalia was likely hidden within said flower, which came to an almost vaginal bulb which was slowly opening up. Elegant and long, lily-like petals slowly bloomed outwards and stamen spilled forth. Nectar dripped, and the sheen of pollen dotted the insides.

   Lord Revolver cupped one of the petals which extended forth. Some of them pressed back unto Prince Spectre’s stomach, others remained limp. The golden stamen began to curl outwards in an almost phallic fashion. Especially with the drip of nectar slowly threading upwards and along the tendrils curling back.

   Lord Revolver licked his lips. He felt himself harden beneath his slacks; not quite tenting because the material was too study for that. Still, he swallowed. Uncertain. He glanced upwards, back unto Prince Spectre’s wondrously blue eyes.

   “I take it you are not familiar with the process of dryadic pollination, not even in a scholarly sense?” Prince Spectre asked.

   “Er, no.” Lord Revolver awkwardly replied.

   “No matter, it’s all a learning curve, after all, I’ve never engaged with… humans before either, beyond that which I have learned in my studies.” Prince Spectre said.

   “And I take it that’s my cue to get out of my pants?” Lord Revolver asked.

   Prince Spectre chuckled. “I showed you mine, now you show me yours – isn’t that how it goes amongst the vulgar?”

   “Something like that…” Lord Revolver drawled.

   Lord Revolver clutched at his belt and slowly unwound it from around his waist. He discarded said belt, jewels and pristine leather, to off of the bed they shared. He stood up and Prince Spectre, tilted his head, and waited expectantly. Which did nothing for the sudden bolt of nervousness going through Lord Revolver rather than the previous and addictive adrenaline and arousal.

   Still, he dropped his slacks and they soon joined his belt as well. Thus, his erection sprung free and Prince Spectre’s eyes widened as he examined Lord Revolver’s genitalia. Lord Revolver was, by no means, generously endowed but Prince Spectre didn’t need to know that. For now, Lord Revolver would hope that Prince Spectre did consider him to be of a longer length than average, should such lists exist within that which Prince Spectre had alluded to studying.

   Prince Spectre licked his lips and cupped Lord Revolver’s cock. “May I?” he asked.

   “Absolutely.” Lord Revolver said.

   He had expected that Prince Spectre would simply suck him off like that, but instead, Prince Spectre forced him back unto the nest of a mattress or bed they shared. He had grabbed Lord Revolver’s ankle and yanked him back. Lord Revolver hissed but, no harm done and besides, Prince Spectre looked absolutely gorgeous between his legs like that, so it was ultimately permitted. Not to mention, those haunting bedroom eyes which gave Lord Revolver the chills and certainly sweetened what may have otherwise been an offence.

   Prince Spectre sat between the space of Lord Revolver’s legs; one over his shoulder, the other ajar. He licked his lips and kissed the inner of Lord revolver’s thigh, to tease him. Lord Revolver laid back, further, and stared into the sky. After all, there was no ceiling in Prince Spectre’s private quarters.

   Then he felt first contact.

   Prince Spectre had no qualms about sealing his lips tightly around the length of Lord Revolver’s cock. He seemed to relish it, as unceremonious as his actions were. Regardless, Lord Revolver felt Prince Spectre’s tongue move from either side of his mouth, licking the underside of Lord Revolver’s cock.

   He forced himself to take as much as Lord Revolver’s length as he could before ultimately rejecting it. He gagged slightly from being choked but he smiled. He kissed the cockhead and then let the tip of his tongue explore the ridges and slit. Lord Revolver moaned, face reddening and cock hardening further.

   Lord Revolver propped up his head slightly so that he could see Prince Spectre’s expression. As expected, it was how Lord Revolver would find typical of someone who had just put their mouth on someone’s dick. Vaguely repulsed but strangely aroused. Then, when Prince Spectre realised that Lord Revolver had taken a peek at his activities, he smirked.

   He drew back. A thin and beading trail of fluid, thicker than saliva and tinted slightly, drew back from his mouth and from the top of Lord Revolver’s cock as he did so. He pawed at his mouth. Then licked over his lips. At first, it was just the tip of his tongue but soon, Prince Spectre revealed that his organ was far longer than first thought.

   His tongue unwound like a cord of rope from his mouth. Seeming without end and Lord Revolver marvelled at how such a thing could remain hidden within Prince Spectre’s mouth, and at how herculean a task of keeping it and a cock would have been. Then, Prince Spectre demonstrated further just how he could use this tongue of his which was nearly amphibian in purpose.

   Prince Spectre’s tongue slowly wound around Lord Revolver’s cock. It ribboned around loosely but flanked him quite generously and then some. All whilst making unflinching and rather hooded eye contact with Lord Revolver. Prince Spectre’s tongue slithered and coiled. A stench began to permeate around them; it was floral and fruity and intoxicating. It heightened the atmosphere and deepened what he felt. So, it was too little wonder that Lord Revolver’s breath hitched as he felt himself leak with ambling precum.

   With the appearance of such fluid, Prince Spectre drew back in. His tongue winding back into his mouth; his thin jowls miraculously hiding such an admirable length. He then, almost graciously, licked up the precum. He swallowed, and Lord Revolver fixated on the way his larynx bobbed as he did so. He licked his lips and became increasingly aware of not just how wet his crotch was, but the sides of his legs.

   He glanced down, confused, and then saw that he hadn’t been the only one who had come to produce some sort of fluid. Prince Spectre was very, very wet. The vertices which connected the petals of his genitalia thickly dripped with some sort of syrup which looked sticky and sweet; a thick, off-kilter yellow not unlike honey. Not only was Prince Spectre slick with such a fluid, so was Lord Revolver.

   Lord Revolver licked his lips and breathed deeply. His nose was assailed by an offensively sweet smell, but it made his mouth water and his stomach yearn. And he wasn’t even a sweet tooth. A unique arousal bloomed inside of him as well.

   “Would you be so kind as to reciprocate the oral?” Prince Spectre asked.

   “It would be my pleasure.” Lord Revolver eagerly replied.

   Prince Spectre sat down and kept his legs apart; his body framed by the ways his knees stuck out. Lord Revolver was then able to get in nice and close. Prince Spectre lowered himself unto his back and Lord Revolver placed his hands either side of Prince Spectre’s hips; making angles out of them with his fingers.

   Lord Revolver put his mouth where Prince Spectre opened, and he opened very wide thanks to the way in which the flower bloomed. He was uncertain as to how to regard Prince Spectre’s genitalia, but it was beautiful. So, he was gentle with him.

   Lord Revolver began on the outer lips of the lily-like petals, pressing past the anthers which unfurled from within the petals and he was gentle with the stigma, connected to his pistil, down the middle, leading to whatever Prince Spectre hosted in his body. It was likely an ovary, but Lord Revolver did not want to be so presumptuous of if Prince Spectre’s dryadic body matched perfectly of that of a flower. Still, that was enough of reviewing the hypothetical. Lord Revolver was eager to engage what was real.

   The petals were silky, Lord Revolver was strangely surprised to learn. He thought they might be the same tactile consistency as the rest of Prince Spectre’s body, but they weren’t. They were softer and again, far more sweet smelling and tasting.

   He lapped at the nectar and Prince Spectre whimpered. His lewd mewling reverberated on Lord Revolver’s mouth and sweetened that which he drank of. The nectar was exactly as Lord Revolver had hoped it would taste. Sweet, definingly so, and tinged with honey and the flavours of a garden. It was addictive and hit him like a drug.

   It coursed through him and he surged with lust. It set his veins alight and made him hunger deeply. Each lick grew steadily more precise, unafraid, as Lord Revolver tried to savour the taste and feeling of rolling his tongue so greedily across Prince Spectre’s silky, soft petals which formed his genitalia.

   He whimpered again. He produced yet more nectar. Lord Revolver hummed. There was a look in his blue eyes which was near cattish. He utterly delighted in how he was able to pleasure Prince Spectre: he whimpered and shivered. They were such seemingly small things and yet that which it incited in the both of them was great.

   Lord Revolver, finally, lifted his mouth off the arched flat of one of the petals. But it was only curt. He soon attempted to swallow the tip of one of the anthers that unfurled from within Prince Spectre. It bobbed inside of Lord Revolver’s mouth as he forced it roll against the roof of his tongue as he carefully licked it over with his tongue. The pollen it produced was crunchy, Lord Revolver realised ashe swallowed that Prince Spectre produced.

   Prince Spectre’s breath hitched in his throat as he hissed, “Y-You tease me, Lord Revolver.”

   Lord Revolver slowly let go of the grasp on the bulb of Prince Spectre’s anther. Saliva pooled over it as he released it from behind his teeth. His tongue remained pointed, beneath it.

   “No,” Lord Revolver replied, husky and hungry, “your just really good.”

   Prince Spectre’s heart palpitated. He was flattered by such a thing.

   “Just don’t suck me dry then,” Prince Spectre warned, “or how else are you to ease into me so you may pollinate me?”

   “About that… Just what are you? Sexually, speaking.” Lord Revolver asked, a twinge upon his brow as he had to interrupt what was otherwise lurid conversation which enthralled him.

   “I’m perfect.” Prince Spectre boasted.

   “I know that already,” Lord Revolver growled, “but what are you?”

   “I have Monoclinous genitalia. I am able to produce both pollen, for the fertilisation of others, and seed, for the fertilisation by someone else.” Spectre explained with a huff.

   “And what does that mean for me?” Lord Revolver asked.

   He was wary as he hadn’t intended for this tryst to be of procreative sex and he was aware things tended to be likelier than one hoped. Though, that didn’t address the issue of the fact that one of them was human and the other a dryad which seemed to further skew the likelihoods of such things such as the conception of a foetus, or so Lord Revolver would imagine. But he did know that humans had a proclivity for being able to spread genetic material over a good many more species than what should be allowed; dryads, included.

   “It means that if you consent, I could bear you an heir.” Prince Spectre replied. “And, if you were to desire, I could throttle you full of pollen but what would be the point? After all, you seem to have a strictly Androecious anatomy.”

   Lord Revolver paused so that he could mull over the more unusual words Prince Spectre was using. For once, he found himself grateful that his loyal Knights had put him through such a thorough education of that was around him; including the ins and outs of botany.

   “I see.” he murmured, at long last. “But I can think of a few reasons as to why you ought to do such a thing, even if it does seem wasteful, to you – I’m presuming.”

   “What unnecessarily lustful creatures you humans are…” Prince Spectre spat, unamused.

   “We try.” Lord Revolver replied.

   Prince Spectre harrumphed, “Whatever, just fuck me already since you seem to have gained your bearings.”

   “With pleasure.” Lord Revolver said, lust saturated his voice.

   Prince Spectre laid back again and braced himself. His breath hitched as Lord Revolver began to tease the opening of his stigma with his finger. His eyes and fists clenched as Lord Revolver toyed with the fuzzy head of the stigma. The petals shivered either side of him and Lord Revolver was soon satisfied. He popped his finger in his mouth, sucking off the pollen.

   He then straddled Prince Spectre. He aligned his cock with the opening of Prince Spectre’s genitals; something not hard to given how widely and loosely unfurled the petals were. There was a lot of space, but Lord Revolver managed to brush up against the pollen tubes attached to the stigma regardless. Though, that was born of the intention of wanting to arouse Prince Spectre.

   Something Lord Revolver was successful in. Every sensation brought blithe pain to Prince Spectre: arousal. He was unused to having his genitals stimulated like this and Lord Revolver’s hard-on was an anatomical difference to relish; as brutal-seeming as it was. To Prince Spectre, the human anatomy and genitalia, whilst having some sexual benefits that aroused him, was unseemly. Hideous, to be blunt.

   Regardless, Lord Revolver pushed onwards. It was easy; frictionless. The inner centre of Prince Spectre’s genitals were guarded, sort of, by the petals which had bloomed from the initial bulb that his body came to in his genital region. They were pleasantly loose but as Lord eased himself into his lover, he enjoyed how tight it was as he penetrated past the pollen tubes.

   Lord Revolver’s cock made for an interesting sensation for the dryad prince. He was virginal, after all, and his fantasies had never really involved the human species, so he was enjoying the differences that such a tryst generated and the unexpected. He had imagined sex as being similar; perhaps, daintier. Again, he thought humans – or perhaps just this one was – were too forceful about pollination. Still, it was deeply enjoyable.

   Every thrust penetrated deeper still. Lord Revolver was nearly reviled by how easily it was to press so far into Prince Spectre, but every moan was magic. Like a liquid, it dripped over Lord Revolver and engaged him in what he was doing; alighting his lust to a fever pitch that he hadn’t thought possible.

   The inside of the flower, the very base of it, was slick with nectar that Lord Revolver’s tongue had been unable to lick at. The soft cushioning of the petals, the way they seemed to generate little friction with each gliding thrust that Lord Revolver administered upon Prince Spectre. It made for a very pleasant experience; especially with all the oft and lewd vocalisations which accompanied at least every second thrust.

   It was easy to build a rhythm as the stalks bent around Lord Revolver’s cock. And with a rhythm came a quickening pace as they got to know each other’s biometrics intimately. Each thrust built to something more until Lord Revolver could reach no more. Such penetrations were accompanied by a sound so obscene that Lord Revolver paled. He had not been expecting such a wanton thing and it, in turn, sparked something else.

   Arousal and lust and what may have been love – if not, amicable convenience – had been building strongly all throughout the activities of their tryst. But this was the breaking point wherein they realised they were at their peaks with nowhere to go but crashing down with a post-coital bliss. Their orgasms were imminent, and they welcomed such blissful imminence.

   Lord Revolver paused, and his eyes pored over Prince Spectre’s body. He admired the way his bones jutted out from beneath his tight skin. He admired the way his face was still wracked with haggard breathing and the way his belly rose and fell with each breath he took as he tried to replenish himself. He looked angelic, in the dappled sunlight that fell across them both from the high, high ceiling of the trees that reached out across his private quarters.

   He looked perfect and this was a moment Lord Revolver wanted to savour forever.

   “Please,” Prince Spectre panted, “I want release, please, L-Lord Revolver.”

   His voice was drenched with sweet, wanton desire and such a breath tickled Lord Revolver’s senses. There were goose bumps on his arms. And he felt the sun across his own back for the first time, aware of just how immerse he was in nature. In some ways, literally.

   “Ryoken.” Lord Revolver growled as he possessively thrusted Prince Spectre. “You’re my husband-to-be. Call me Ryoken.”

   He thrusted again. Lust rippled throughout Prince Spectre’s eager and sensitive body. He crooned beneath it all.

   “Please Ryo-Ryoken, release me.” Prince Spectre begged.

   In the mangle of lust, Lord Revolver’s true name, hidden beneath the safety of an alias, caused something in him. It sparked a deep arousal. It pressured every part of his body and hearing it, even so lewdly, caused something to connect in him. He panted and there was an uncertain shiver dancing across his shoulders as he penetrated as hard and deep as he could.

   Then, when he closed his name and listened to the erotic, intense mumblings and sweet nothings that Prince Spectre breathed, he found it within himself. The breaking point. The flower of arousal and lust within him, could bloom no wider and thus, collapsed in on himself, triggering his orgasm and the release that came with it.

   Prince Spectre writhed as he felt the echoes of Lord Revolver’s orgasm resound against his receptive body. In turn, he felt himself pulse with pleasure, also. Streams of nectar, something he thought he had dried of thanks to all that oral Lord Revolver had given, turned to rivers down his legs. Golden and sticky; mixing with the off-white of Lord Revolver’s human semen.

   They both panted, and residuals thrusts continued even after they both came, eagerly accepted by Prince Spectre, and rode out the initial, sexual bliss of an orgasm. The first they had ever shared, outside of personal gratification. Slowly, almost hesitantly, Lord Revolver drew back and his cock, still stiff, glistened with the nectar that it had accumulated through all that penetration.

   Prince Spectre slowly got up. As he propped himself up, he faltered but he was fine. His body was achy. He shivered. Lord Revolver relaxed though. His muscles were tight and yet, he felt so loose though. He yawned.

   “That was,” he said, trying to overcome his yawn, “amazing. You really are perfect.”

   Prince Spectre chuffed. “Thank you.”

   “So, you’re all pollinated now, huh?” Lord Revolver asked.

   “For today.” Prince Spectre cryptically replied.

   “For today?” Lord Revolver echoed.

   Prince Spectre stretched out and he admired, briefly, the mess they had made together. He licked his lips and then glanced at Lord Revolver.

   “Mating season isn’t over just yet. Though, admittedly, you are at the near end of it. Though, as an inexperienced no-longer virgin, I might come to crave it again soon. I don’t know why you seem concerned or surprised. I thought humans were blasphemously amorous.” Prince Spectre mused.

   “I just need time to recuperate and recon with the outside world, is all.” Lord Revolver replied.

   “Yes, I suppose there is time for that.” Prince Spectre said. “Besides, we ought to have a ceremony to make our political liaisons official.”

   “Urgh, yes. I’ll definitely have to recognisance with the outside world now. I am not getting married without having at least three human witnesses with me.” Lord Revolver said, ready to argue even though he wanted to enjoy his post-coital aftermath in a near doze and cuddle with his lover instead of verbally spar regarding their royal liaisons.

   “You can discuss the guest list of our ceremony with my mother later,” Prince Spectre said, a touch testy, “we’re getting ahead of ourselves.”

   “We are? And are you okay, you sound… pained.” Lord Revolver said.

   Prince Spectre continued to sit up, legs apart and the flower between them fully bloomed. Though, the tips of which were slowly curling back unto themselves. Likely to hide that which was so luscious inside of them but there was something else. Nectar which was of a silvery shade and was a lot less viscous than the golden nectar began to drip down the vertices of the stained petals.

   “You pulled out at a good time,” Prince Spectre said, he winced, “I don’t think I was made to be penetrated like that… So thoroughly and deeply and quickly. As exhilarating as such things are… Argh… It’s – It’s disrupted something inside of me.”

   Lord Revolver paled. His heart palpitated. “I – I haven’t hurt you… have you?”

   “Not… exactly.” Prince Spectre hesitated and the note in his voice did not affirm anything but worry in Lord Revolver.

   Prince Spectre’s shoulders stiffened. He clutched desperately onto something soft beneath him. He panted, exuded something akin to sweat from his face and his face discoloured. His face was a sort of pastel green for the most part. Whenever he exerted energy, it seemed, it turned to a more viridian and now, it was patchily emerald. Mottled patches on his skin began to come through all over him, as though he were piebald. He panted fiercely.

   “Please stop being so cryptic with me. If you are hurt, tell me.” Lord Revolver demanded of him.

   “Ugh, fine!” Prince Spectre huffed. “Humans are mammals. Dryads are not. We do not gestate our young like you would; inside a womb, so to speak.”

   Prince Spectre’s breathing was erratic. That was having an adverse effect on how he talked and especially with how his face contorted. There was little pleasure or joy to be had. He looked like he was in pain, but it was mild. Lord Revolver would liken it to the pain experienced by a twisted ankle, but it was still excruciating to watch and more painful still, to have to listen to Prince Spectre rationalise it.

   “A dryad was not made to be pollinated so roughly, I don’t believe.” Prince Spectre hissed.

   “My apologies?” Lord Revolver mumbled.

   “Don’t. It was amazing.” Prince Spectre snapped.

   Lord Revolver’s cheeks flushed. He liked having his techniques praised, even though it seemed they had done more harm than good.

   “As – As a result though,” Prince Spectre panted, “it seems to have triggered some sort of early expulsion of seeds.”

   And, as Prince Spectre said that, Lord Revolver was shown exactly what he meant. From between his legs, seemingly exiting from the very depths of the ovary somewhere within the depths of Prince Spectre’s genitals, came a seed. Or, more scientifically, an ovule.

   It was brown and was quite large. It was brown and conical with deep rivets. It resembled almost a peach pit but something about that description was not entirely apt as it had a lot in common, physically, with avian eggs despite dryads being distinctly anything but bird-like.

   Regardless, Lord Revolver found himself – regrettably – fixating on how it slowly passed through Prince Spectre’s body. It slid on the thick nectars. The receptacle, the bulb of Prince Spectre’s genitals where the petals all connected, spasmed rhythmically to help guide the seed into the world all whilst the rest of his body writhed in mild discomfort.

   Yet, it strangely turned him on. He was going to hope it was because his body was still ravaged by hormones and his first sexual encounter that he found himself being aroused by the fact that his lover was ovulating as he was. Lord Revolver was going to sincerely hope that he felt such a second-coming rush to his crotch region and felt his cock stiffen.

   So, he awkwardly hovered as he found his voice: “As your… partner, is there anything I can do to help you through this?” he asked and had to cough out some of his words because he was a touch embarrassed.

   Prince Spectre huffed. “You can hold my hand. Kiss me. Or just leave. Whatever works for you. I must say though… being watched makes it harder.”

   He panted, and Lord Revolver sat himself down next to Prince Spectre. He sat uncomfortably close; skin to skin contact along their legs and then, Lord Revolver initiated a kiss. It was punctured and fractured but it was a kiss nonetheless. Hot breaths skittered over Lord Revolver’s upper lip as he was kissed needily. Prince Spectre’s hand also flopped into Lord Revolver’s then clamped down. He felt clammy but clammy was a strange feeling on a dryad, it seemed.

   Prince Spectre passed his second seed. Nectar pooled between his legs. The second seed joined the first; bumping against it. Prince Spectre panted as he kissed Lord Revolver. There was something strangely victorious about how they kissed. It must be quite the endeavour, Lord Revolver realised, to produce these seeds of his.

   Lord Revolver pecked Prince Spectre’s hand and mumbled into it, “Are you okay? How many more will there be, do you think?” he asked. He used a careful sort of tone to ask; one that sounded courteous and somewhere near kind.

   Prince Spectre took a deep, long-suffering breath and there was a part within him who sincerely wished that his spouse-to-be was more educated on the topic, or at least had been prior to laying with him. After all, this was basically his fault. Normally seeds gestated a little in the ovary before exiting for external nutrition and nurturing. Humans are so self-centred.

   The tip of a third seed began to protrude through the conjoined base of the petals and of Prince Spectre’s crotch. The petals shivered. He shuddered. He took another breath; this one more concise and pitched than the previous. Mild pain, it seemed.

   “This is it,” Prince Spectre sighed, pained, “or second last.”

   Lord Revolver clutched at his lover’s hand dearly. He kissed Prince Spectre’s knuckles. He bristled, then softened. He smiled gently; appreciative of Lord Revolver’s gesture, it seemed. Then, he took another breath as his body continued to reject the fertilised seeds from deep within him.

   “You’re doing really well, my love.” Lord Revolver told him and kissed his lips.

   Prince Spectre’s heart fluttered as he kissed back. Hard. He sucked in a deep breath: absorbing Lord Revolver’s delicious breath, ardent and gracious. Prince Spectre was unaccustomed to romantic love, but he was certain that he wanted such a thing with this human. Even if it had been born of convenient lust and a political arrangement. He wanted, dearly, to fall into a wholesome love for Lord Revolver so that their reign could be a peaceful one; not only for the bounds and confines of Prince Spectre’s domain, but for them as well. After all, no eternity could be worse than a marriage without lust.

   And then, Prince Spectre’s body spasmed with yet more ardour in order to relieve him of the fertilised seeds within himself. Such a movement, jaggedly going through him, distracted him of his rather lovestruck reverie. He huffed and panted some more.

   Again, Lord Revolver held Prince Spectre’s hand, with fingers like sticks and nails like claws, dearly. He swallowed. He wasn’t certain of what his lover must be thinking; intervals of cussing and discussion of pain, he expected but Lord Revolver knew his own thoughts. And he was vaguely disgusted with them.

   He hadn’t expected bonding with the dryads as he had. He was ready to welcome not only Prince Spectre as a husband – even if it was out of political convenience – but his whole family as well. He was prepared for the humiliation of reuniting with his mother and calling her an “in law”. He was even readying himself for breaking the news with his three high ranking officers under his reign.

   But those were the nice thoughts and the nice thoughts hadn’t necessarily left Lord Revolver disgusted with himself. Just like how he suspected that Prince Spectre’s thoughts oscillated between yelping in pain and distractions, his mind oscillated with a dichotomy of distinct thoughts as well. Though, his thoughts operated on a binary of love and lust.

   Lord Revolver still found himself strangely aroused by the motions Prince Spectre’s body was going through in order to posit his seeds outside his body. Worse still, Lord Revolver was continuing to fear that his sudden arousal born of spectating and soothing Prince Spectre in this state was not just the result of vitriolic emotions borne of him losing his virginity but the waking of something else.

   Though he was hesitant to indulge it, Lord Revolver still did. He held onto his lover’s hand and then kissed him. He moaned into the kiss whilst he continued to phase the seed out of his body. Such a moan caused the kiss to turn messy, but Lord Revolver didn’t mind. So long as it brought Prince Spectre even the slightest comfort amid the pain he was experiencing.

   Prince Spectre’s private quarters were not so much a room as they were a space. Wind tousled about in the highest branches of the trees which formed the ceiling, lit green and dappled yellow in the sunlight beginning to fade from the afternoon well spent. A pungent fume of nectar and musk continued to drift through the air. Even now. Possibly furthered by the fact that Prince Spectre was still pooling in his own dripping nectar.

   Prince Spectre swallowed, and his body expelled the final seed from within itself. His breath fumbled, and he looked content. His hand, once firm and sharp, relaxed. He took a shuddering and deep breath. His face immediately began to pale; losing some of the more alarming greens within it and became pastel again.

   “That’s the last of it.” he said.

   “Good, good…” Lord Revolver mumbled, and he patted Prince Spectre’s hand, hoping it would be soothing.

   It wasn’t. But Prince Spectre didn’t mind. He sighed. Lord Revolver glanced at the mess between his legs. Nectar and cum and some other fluid too, and that wasn’t even mentioning the most obvious thing about all this: the seeds.

   “What do we do with… those?” Lord Revolver asked. He tried not to let bitterness ebb into his voice, but he had other responsibilities that he had to put above any potential of becoming a father.

   Prince Spectre picked up one of the seeds. He inspected it. The underside was coated rather thickly with all the fluids that it had been bathing in. Prince Spectre had a casual disdain in his eyes and that made Lord Revolver’s stomach knot and wrench. He sighed.

   “Post-posited seeds like these haven’t had the time to at least begin to sprout and turn into seedlings, won’t become dryads.” Prince Spectre said. “This is no different to how Gynoecious humans get rid of their own, unfertilised ovules as part of their menstrual cycle. It’s just a matter of disposal.”

   “I see.” Lord Revolver choked out.

   “No worry, I’m sure my Mother will be able to give them the honourable burial that they deserve.” Prince Spectre replied.

   He carefully picked up the others. He held them and looked over them with such a cold and clinical gaze. Lord Revolver was chilled by it, but he saw things in human terms. He thought this to be akin to that of a stillbirth. Clearly, this was something else in the culture and heritage of a dryad.

   “Would you like to hold them?” Prince Spectre asked. “After all, they have your pollen – I mean, semen – in them.”

   “Will you be offended if I say no?” Lord Revolver asked.

   “A little, truth be told.” Prince Spectre replied.

   “Very well then. If only to avoid offending you.” Lord Revolver said.

   “How considerate.” Prince Spectre snarked.

   Prince Spectre tipped the seeds into Lord Revolver’s hands. His heart thudded. Fear, perhaps? It was unsettling. They felt like peach pits in his hand; very wet and very sticky, peach pits, that is. He was disgusted by how familiar such an alien thing was and he sighed. He tried not to think about how they could have become seedlings and later, possibly, his and his husband-to-be’s progeny. That unsettled him more than anything else.

   “We should take those to my Mother soon,” Prince Spectre mused as he took the seeds from Lord Revolver’s hands, aware of how uncomfortable they were making the human, “they will be a good point to segue from in conversation. She will be most alarmed to learn the result of our negotiations, after all. And I have more news still which will frighten her, and it breaks my heart to do so.”

   “You do?” Lord Revolver asked.

   “Yes, I’ve made up my mind about something. I’m going to leave Sunavalon Forest.” Prince Spectre said, and he struck fierce eye contact with Lord Revolver. “I intend to fight by your side in this upcoming war against these homunculi with you.”

   “I forbid it.” Lord Revolver stated. “I don’t want to endanger you in my crusade.”

   “But as your fiancé, I must disagree. You war is my war.” Prince Spectre said, stern and serious, then kissed Lord Revolver. He broke off swiftly and there was a cattish look in his eyes. “Besides, you have much to learn of my magics and it would be easier to simply teach you as we go along rather than have you study here, no?”

   “I suppose, very well then. If that’s how you feel.” Lord Revolver replied.

   “Good, because – more importantly – I don’t feel as though I could bear having to part from you so soon.” Prince Spectre purred.

   Lord Revolver’s heart leapt into his throat. His mouth dried, and Prince Spectre pressed a sensual kiss unto his swollen lips. Lord Revolver swallowed, and he kissed back. He was completely and utterly certain that the dryad prince, completely divorced from all things of battle and war, had any idea what he was conscripting to in the name of spousal loyalty. But still, Lord Revolver had to agree in some vein as he didn’t think he could bear to leave so soon without his betrothed. He was becoming rather ardently attached to Prince Spectre.

   So now, for the first time in a very long time, Lord Revolver looked forward to what the future was beholden to. He had thought nothing of beyond the conflict of the Ignis and now, he could, and he wanted to survive so that he may come to live in that future as it seemed he had a good many things to look forward to. Even if it was mostly sex.

**Author's Note:**

> EDIT: chapter 2 is its own fic because the exposition would just be annoying to read otherwise.


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